Crossing the street

-         -  Did you understand? – she asked me, concernedly severe as if she’d just given me instructions before I go all alone to a japanese forest with no arms.

I was sitting on the desk, just next to her, and was lazily following the mouse on the desktop with tired eyes.

-        -   So?

Why was it that important to her to get the answer? Sure I understood the situation and I needed no recall of how poorly miserable I would be.

I nodded: a mistake: new avalanch: explications: tension: shouter: guilt…

-         -  I’ll be fine, don’t worry. – I said and rushed towards the door under the concerned look of hers.

-        -   And please leave that bike! – she shoulted after me.

It feels dizzy, the summer. The heat and the trafic make it even worse. And the city? You’re just another hamster in it, rolling down the streets…

I went out and jumped on my bike as if it was my only chance to escape the inner tension.

-       -    Please give me the calm I need… - I was thinking while I was serpentining among the cars.

Don’t do that at home: being dizzy and “driving”, even an non-motorised vehicle, can be dangerous. Relieving – I know!!!! -  but dangerous… It doesn’t matter if you’re contemplating the moon, dreaming away with the wind, or seeing metaphores in the road you’re driving along, it’s all very dang…

Tras! A crash! Wow, for fuck’s sake! Am I ok? I think so… It almost got me, fuck…Concentrate, concentrate!

-          - So , when will we see Leo?

-        -   I don’t need his help right now, thank you. I’ll tell you if I need it, ok?

-        -   Why not? He’ll find something just for you. I have friends, they can help you… - he does not understand…

-          - Alright, but please let me try it on my own first. It’s not a childish stubborness what I do… - tired, but firm voice comes out of my mouth.

-        -   Right! – furious. – do you know what you’re doing? Do you have something like a plan?!

t    There's no need you to react like this, man...

-        -   I do. I have my own ideas and I want to try it on my own. – I’m still calm? I’m afraid yes, apatically calm…

-       -    Fine then. 

Going home… Moving, that’s the feeling… Empty, dark, cold, windy, lonely road towards home… Or at least in my head.  A drifter. What if I don’t know? What if I can’t make it on my own? What if I’m not capable of leading this batle? What if… Does they have a point? Should I accpet what they propose me?

-        -   Hey, you! – “are you talking to me?!” – yes, you! – it’s a driver next to me at the traffic lights, well I’m waiting at the middle of the road, just like a real car – you’re really cool, girl, I do admire you for your bravery with the bike! Just put on a helmet the next time, ok?

-         -  Sure!

Green light – go!

Alone, but not exacly. I’m moving, that’s the feeling… indeed. Not a drifter anymore. Fragile – probably, but not as to never give it a try. After all it can’t be that hard, can it? Just as following the traffic in Sofia – it’s not about keeping your fingers crossed, but keep looking for a way to cross even if it seems hopelessly stucked. ¡ Adelante! 

P.S.  Dear myself, don´t let me forget it! J

Camino del Norte

“The goal is the road”

Jakub Merta

I’ve always loved travelling. It’s not about the destination - actually I don’t care where I’m going – it’s the mere road what I’ve always enjoyed. The life of the nomad, the freedom and the thrill of the unexpected, the beauty of the landscapes, the randomness of the company and of course the friendships you make and solidify…

 There was on a July morning, I was looking for… Bus. From Barcelona to San Sebastian – the initial point of my Camino. In difference with the Uriah Heep’s song character, I was not alone – Dayana, my best equally-mental-ill friend, was there next to me, complaining about the weight of her rucksack. 

Alas, no free seats there were in the busses. It was impossible to spend another night in the capital of Catalunya for we had no host. Also, after having seen most of the important sightseeings of the city (I was impressed by “El raval”, the “young”neighbourhood in Barça, considered as “problematic”. Un mollón de grafitis, wisely painted pics, youngsters and the top of the cake – the faculty of geography, history and phylosophy where there was a huge poster appealing for resistance against the state, mutual support, solidarity and an open assembly… (so similar to Sofia…) thanks to Maite, Lena and Maja, who generously enough sacrificed a whole day to be our guides, we were rapaciously eager to start walking.

In order to save some money, we went to Huesca – a beautiful village in Aragón. The tranquility of the place was a perfect background of our first disputes: restaurants or supermarkets, busses or walking to San Sebastian, San Sebastian or Roncesvalles… Plus, a machine engulfed  my friend’s money cart… Nevertheless, we had a blast sleeping in a noisily-lokated hostel where we played some music on the telephone and made ourselves an impro disconight with neo metal musicJ

In Pamplona! Finally some traces of the Camino! Actually “some” is not an appropriate word to describe what we saw; it was more like “for-fuk’s-sake-Santiago-must-have-vomited-shells-and-arrows-and-shops-for-them-and-randomly-looking-people-everywhere!!!!!!!”. Commercialization of class.

The dispute between us grew stronger to errupt the very moment I said “Yes” about doing the Camino Francés. We were sitting in a park and I was furiously thinking “Fuk, fuk, fuk! This is the last time I’m doing teamwork! Next time I’m coming alone with a bike here and I’m doing Camino del Norte the way I want it!”. I remember also writing down in my diary something like “Viva la anarquía!!!!”: D

Nevertheless, I got lucky. I had chosen wisely my friend: she couldn’t bear the commercialization of the road as well and acceded into leaving for San Sebastian the very moment she’d seen Pamplona.

Butterflies conquered my mind and lift me up, making me perfectly capable of flying on the  whole day under the ardient sun with a heavy rucksack. After all we were going to San Sebastián, what were several hours of tourisming compared to that...

… next 5 hours I was a silent suitcase, drifting mindlessly around the city. Ok, not that mindlessly since I was the mapgirl, but anyway…

We reached a beautiful cathedral with two baby heads in the garden and Dna entered while I had a sit in front of it and enjoyed a pack of salted sticks.

After what seemed to me as a whole century, Dayana would get out and, emotionated me, we caught the bus to El País Vasco.

It was a gorgeus voyage! All the landscapes I saw, all the places I could recall… There it was Sabiñánigo, the station and the bench where i slept a whole afternoon waiting for the other bubaleños to come. All the faces, all the emotions came back to me, my friends… One year later the place was still the same (what a surprise! : D ). I thought of Sara who wanted to do the camino but couldn´t come, of my french friends and, of course, of Donojos – the one who had said he would come (I still didn´t believe he wold…).

The buss went on. I didn´t have enough time to experience melancoly the way i wanted for i was brutally taken back to reality by the whistling of my neighbour. He wouldn´t stop doing that during the whole trip! Didi also woke up, agitated by the ¨melody¨ and we both laughed as I played for her what i´d do with the head of this random guy if he was sitting closer to me….

Donostia! Rain! 20.30 h no albergue on the horizon!

I put my raincoat, the one my grandpa made for me with a whole volcano of love, only to find out it was entirely useless in its megalomany… 

 Wet and cold, we located a smal church close to the station and went on exploring the place. We got lost : ) A woman we asked for the direction took pitty on us and lead us to the church where the priest accomodated us in his personal car and drove us to an albergue, showing us the city meanwhile. He also invited us home if no space in the albergue was left.

 Luckily enough, there was enough space in the municipal albergue: a giant room full of two-level beds. Like refugies, we entered and sit in front of the desk of the hospitalero. Already had our credencailes from Pamplona where we doubted for a moment if stay for the night, we were just put el sello and given a book with las etapas del Camino and information about them. Then the hospitalero reminded us with a ¨friendly¨, absolutely no imperative voice that we were in an albergue donativo, so we had to donnate a sum (and placed the jar in front of us). Having payed, we rushed towards the beds and climbed up at the first free ones we saw. We had a shower and at 22h the lights were off.

We couldn´t sleep. It was not only about the noise snooring people were making, but also because of the emotions and, for sure, the lack of tiredness we had. : ) so we listened to music, chatted and discussed the ¨cute ugly German boys behind us¨ and why they were not appropriate : ) Eventually, at 00h we felt asleep, dreaming about the new day and the adventure we had already started…

A Paula

El viento te lleva,
te guía el mar:
¡Estás preciosa,
reina d´andar!

Me dejas sonrisa
y, algo de prisa,
te tomas la leche
y ¨nyama te veche¨*

Suerte, amica,
y, aunque pica
la lágrima esa
que tanto te pesa
y vive en tu corazón,

¡Sonríele dulce,
(igual que a mí)
y recuerda el grupo d´aquí!

¡Ojalá encuentres amor,
pasión y fuerte fervor!,
que sofoquen el llanto
y lo transformen en canto.

Pon esmero:
 espero
que todo te vaya bien.
un baci
(¡multiplicado por cien!)


*nyama te veche - ya no estás

To Allan

Eternal thirst is your assassin
For time ago you find no safe.
And locked you are,
My lonely brother,
In your icy, mortal grave.

It’s not a nightmare
And though you are a prayer
There’s no chance you run with life:
Reality is cutting with a knife
The ashes of your dreams…

It seems you are resigned:
You laugh and smile and joke –
A perfect mask but, hey, it pokes:
That hell you’ve swam within;
Your killingly eternal splint...

So, here you are,
You walk alone.
Alas, it’s not a stone
Your heart
And there shall be no ending of the rain
Your tears will be forever autumn pain…

Santiago’s not solution!;
Camino – revolution! -
Only if it’s in your soul!;
It’s hard, amigo, hard,
I know…

Сам

За Диди

Сутрин в мъглата

Липсва светлината.

Има само страх...

Мръсна и сама

Вървя самотна по брега –

Има само прах...

Тишина, убийство е, сама!

Говори, самотно е, сама!

Мечтая човещна,

А срещам празнота...

Чужда реч, усмивка-маска –

И страха в прахта се стряска! -

И се свива в ъгъла, сълзи,

Виква:

МРИ, човек, умри!